War Poems
I Am Waiting
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting
for someone to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
......
The Female Of The Species
by Rudyard Kipling
When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can,
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
......
Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter
by John Crowe Ransom
There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all
Her wars were bruited in our high window.
We looked among orchard trees and beyond
Where she took arms against her shadow,
Or harried unto the pond
The lazy geese, like a snow cloud
......
Children Of War
by William Sutherland
The Children of War are like little flowers trampled,
Young and innocent, fragile and helpless,
Surrounded by violence and rampant destruction-
Their faces are filled with doubts and fear.
The Children of War, so precious and dear,
Stripped of their childhood years, their youth stolen away
Are little Saints for human failing through no fault of their own.
The Children of War, their lives lost and scarred,
......
Strange Meeting
by Wilfred Owen
It seemed that out of the battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which Titanic wars had groined.
Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall;
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
......
Alma
by Rainbow Wilcox
She also cried as a newborn, and felt light shine through her eyes. Her favourite colour was ocean. Her lungs moved with the tides.
On Fridays, she'd make bread with her dad. Four floury hands. Two smiles, soft and wide. It was a ritual they’d complete each week, between prayers, and stories, and feasting. Sometimes, she’d take a ball of dough and eat it raw.
On Saturdays, she'd dance among ancient trees, who were too sage to take any side. This is where Alma would find freedom, with swirling scents of cedar, thyme, and pine. Below, gnarled roots met her feet, above buds and branches met her moves. Sometimes, she’d sing a song, made up on the spot.
On Sunday, Alma died, due to a paradox and plague: 'Holy war' they call it – this vain game of trying to claim the sacred. The stars, and those paying attention, saw that in the flash of the explosion, everyone's heaven was lit bright, just the same.
The ripples are still rippling. Mother is weeping salty tears. This is an old story, and fresh. Over the kitchen table and cups of chamomile tea, she asks tired and patient questions to nobody and to me. Questions about peace and breathing bodies at ease, and why we keep killing and reducing each other to less than tender, and place each other further than intimate, when all are babes here, fleshy and intricate.
......
Missing in Action
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
I was once an idealistic young soldier, who was very new to the occupation,
Trying to preserve freedom, and way of life, like the golden sun, at creation.
Yet, the times were very troubled, because an unhappy country was at war,
As sable, evening shadows deepen, although moonlight spills upon the floor.
I'd recently gotten the news, that our regiment would be deployed overseas,
As a hunger in old-fashioned beehives, prompts deployment of bumblebees.
My family said reluctant, fond goodbyes, and some of them shed quiet tears,
......
The Moon turned Black
by Tammy Darby
And the sun rose blood red
The earth convulsed in revolt
The skies churned and bled
When the missiles fell
The hellfire burned all
There was no more to be said
They had designed their fate.
Instead of peace
Choosing aggression and war
......
Morals
by Alana Alpres
In this world of capitalism's grasp,
Where wealth is worshiped and morals lapse,
I stand at a crossroads, torn between two fates,
One that feeds the fire, and one that breaks the gates.
On the one hand, I am tempted by the lure of success,
To climb the corporate ladder and fulfill my own excess,
But on the other, I hear the call of a different way,
A path of purpose and meaning, not just chasing pay.
......
fear
by marina jane
beautiful soul,
you deserve to be free,
yet you walk through a trench of such great misery.
and when a helping hand is drawn,
you wave it away and just keep marching on.
your heart is in shackles,
your thoughts are unclear,
when you sleep, do you dream of having no fear?
......
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James Macpherson (31 poems about War)
27 October 1736 – 17 February 1796 / Ruthven, Kingussie, Badenoch, Inverness-Shire, Scotland -
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Franklin Pierce Adams (11 poems about War)
F.P.A.] (15 November 1881 – 23 March 1960 / Chicago, Illinois